


BabeWatch

by holographiccatpun



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alcohol, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Post-Canon, Speedos, Ted is a Horny Bastard, Tedgens Rats, tedgens discord cursed fic trade, this isn't a beach this is a bath tub, workin boys mention?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 15:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19542127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holographiccatpun/pseuds/holographiccatpun
Summary: Ted doesn't have a lifeguard at his beach. Henry needs to correct that.





	BabeWatch

The last six months have been weird as fuck,

Ted Richards went from the average middle-class man working a shit job in a small town to a survivor of the apocalypse living in a fortress with his coworker’s girlfriend’s kooky science professor. Turns out the meteor hadn’t just destroyed the Starlight, it has incinerated the entire block, including Ted’s apartment building. Professor Hidgens had been kind enough to invite Ted to stay with him until he could get back on his feet. 

The only problem with that is that he also doesn't have a  _ job _ . Having such a short commute ended up being worse in the long run. Who would have guessed? CCRP technical went up in space-smoke just like his boss and half the town’s residents. 

So here Ted is, broke and unemployed sitting in his en suite bathtub with a bottle in his hand. It isn’t really helping, but it sure is making this pity party a lot more fun. One of the women from the PIEP counseling unit gave him a basket of bath bombs to ‘soothe’ him. He watched the world end; he needs a hell of a lot more than bubbles. 

Ted brings the bottle back up to his lips, taking a slow swig. Once they clear the island for radioactivity, he’s getting the fuck out of Dodge. Maybe he can go to Kentucky, work in the whiskey business. That’s a part of the business world, right? Maybe one of Henry’s buddies can give him a good word.

His reverie is interrupted by a knock on his door. Before he can ask who or why someone is knocking on his bathroom door it swings open, revealing world-renowned biology Professor and occasional writer-slash-composer Henry Oliver Hidgens in nothing but a speedo. 

Henry walks into the bathroom like he owns the place, mainly because he does, and settles himself on the edge of the bathtub. “I see you don't have a lifeguard here at your beach.”

Now, Ted doesn't have anything against the LGBT community. He says Gay Rights just as much as any other heterosexual man. But he is just that. A heterosexual man. And just because Henry’s hair is kind of glowing at this angle and his chest is incredibly well defined and Ted can't quite seem to stop his eyes from following the V of his hips toward the front of his illegally tight swimsuit, that doesn't change anything. 

It takes a long moment, but Ted manages to stop ogling Henry and speak up. “I-I'm not at the beach, this is a bathtub!”

Whatever the fuck that's gotten into Henry, it just makes him  _ grin _ . “No body of water is safe without a lifeguard.”

“It's two feet deep, Henry. You're- what are you doing here?” He is Straight. Ted is a Straight man who likes pussy and totties and pretty women. Not nerdy, musically inclined science professors with washboard abs and legs for days. Not that at all.

“You can relax, you're safe now,” Henry reaches out, gently pushing Ted back against the side of the tub. His hands linger against Ted’s shoulders for a second and Ted  _ does not _ feel himself twitch at the thought of Henry holding him down. “Your lifeguard is here.” 

“Okay...?” Ted swallows thickly, setting the bottle down beside the tub before rubbing his eyes. He sinks into the water slightly, his eyes not leaving Henry’s face. Something’s up here. He doesn’t like this. He's about to try to ask another question when Henry, still giving him that Cheshire cat gin, swings one of his legs up. Ted can't help his eyes flicking down, following the leg up to Henry’s incredible ass. Fuck. Ted’s always been an ass man. He’s beginning to realize just how lucky he was he used one of those bath bombs today. 

His identity crisis and gawk fest get interrupted suddenly when Henry whips out a whistle and  _ blows _ . Boy, does Henry have some fucking  _ lungs  _ on him _. _ “Get out of the water, there's a shark!”

“What, a shark?!” Ted tears his gaze from Henry’s cherry red speedo to look at the foamy bathwater. 

“Get out of the water!” 

“A...shark?” Is he that drunk or is Henry seeing things? Ted looks up at him, tilting his head to the side.

“There’s a shark in the water!” Henry makes a rapid waving motion, his eyes wide and fearful. He blows the whistle again and again until Ted stands and fumbles out.

It takes a second, but eventually, Ted comes back to his senses. He inspects the tub before furrowing his eyebrows and looking back at Henry. What is going on here? “No! Wait a minute, there's no shark in the bathtub!”

“Aren't you glad you had a lifeguard here to save you?” Henry takes a step forward, brushing his cool fingertips against Ted’s wet chest. He smiles again, batting his eyes at Ted as he bites his lip. Fuck.

“I guess…” Ted’s voice trails as he starts to bring a hand up to Henry’s hip. He’s drunk enough, he can write it off in the morning. Henry’s always been pretty and Ted’s been wondering just how skilled those hips are. Henry’s grin gets bigger by just a little too much and Ted feels like he’s been punched in the throat. 

There’s blue in his teeth.

“What- wait a minute, you should go! There's- there's no need for you to be here.” That's what he would say. That's a normal thing to say. Maybe The Hive will believe him, maybe they’ll let him go.

“I think I should stay,” The Hive leans in, brushing Henry’s lips over the shell of Ted’s ear. “And I think we should have sex.”

It’s music to Ted’s ears, he realizes. He’s wanted to hear Henry say those words for the last six months. All the nights he and Henry had wound up sitting with each other somewhere in the fortress, passing bottles between each other. All those looks they shared on the way to yet another PIEP screening. All the bad jokes and the show tunes and the dancing in the kitchen. The stargazing and the shared meals and the dumb nicknames, the thinly veiled innuendos and the hand holding and that one kiss under the mistletoe. 

The Hive gives people what they want, and Ted wanted Henry.

“Okay.” He answers softly. Ted wraps an arm around Henry’s waist and gently guides him into one final kiss. 


End file.
